It’s hard to believe I am a seed.
When the frost of life makes cracks in the soil around me, and I fall in and lie at the bottom of a dark trench, it’s hard to believe this is my home.
When the daily freeze and thaw moves the soil against me, aggravating and chafing my thick skin, it’s hard to believe it is making it easier for me to sprout.
When clouds come home and cover the sun and I’m drowning in the cold, cold rain, it’s hard to believe it is the water of life.
When the soil shifts and moves from the moisture and the freezing and thawing and eventually covers me, it’s hard to believe that there was ever any light.
When I feel smothered.
When I can no longer see.
When I can no longer breathe.
When I am cold and alone.
It’s hard to believe that I am a seed.
And I should grow.
ŞİMDİ OKUDUĞUN
A Song for the Son
SpiritüelThis is my collection of short stories, poems, and reflections on life, all of them being a response to scripture and my Christian beliefs as I walk through this world. I post a new piece every few days. Be sure to check back often. Table of Conten...
